


Down in the Underground

by TrickyJerseyGirl



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: (But is still an asshole at first), Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, I promise, Negan (Walking Dead) Swears, Negan (Walking Dead) is an automatic warning, Negan Being Negan (Walking Dead), Negan is hard to write, Nice Negan (Walking Dead), Please Don't Kill Me, Seriously Negan can be nice-ish, Sexy Negan (Walking Dead), Sweet Negan (Walking Dead), no mary sue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-07-28 16:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16245593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickyJerseyGirl/pseuds/TrickyJerseyGirl
Summary: Negan can keep a secret. Especially when that secret is a smoking-hot survivor making it in her badass-own near the Sanctuary. As trust builds, what else might happen? Negan has no idea, but he's sure as hell going along for the ride.





	1. A Land Serene

**Author's Note:**

> Work title from the song "Down in the Underground" by David Bowie. All chapter titles will come from lyrics of songs from the Labyrinth soundtrack

The world was upside down. 

In truth, the world had been upside down for a long damn while now, but this time, he meant it literally. Shit was upside-fucking-down for real, and he was swinging in a lazy arc, hanging by one ankle from a tree. He’d stepped in a rope snare, like a goddamn cartoon character, and now here he was, swinging upside down. 

“Well,” he said out loud, “it sure as shit is interesting.” He remembered a guy he once knew, from Before, who swore by inversion therapy for everything from back pain to depression. Negan had never tried it himself, but now that he was undergoing it whether he liked it or not, he had to admit that pain in his lower back did feel a little better. ‘Course, that might just be because of all the blood rushing to his head, which made him feel a little bit drunk, but fuck it. Might as well enjoy the feeling while it lasted. 

He’d get himself out of this. Of that, he had no doubt. He always did. And when he found out who’d put out the snare in the first damn place, there was going to be a barbed wire and solid ash wood reckoning, oh yes indeed there was. 

“Ain’t that right, baby doll?” he called out to the faithful Lucille, who’d rolled down a small pile of dirt and leaves when he found himself unceremoniously yanked into the air by his boot. He could still see her handle. She’d be right there when he was back on his feet. She’d be back in his hand where she belonged. 

“You’re awful big for a rabbit, but you don’t have shit on the buck that trap was set for.”

Negan’s head spun around, which caused the lazy arc he’d been swinging in to get a little more erratic. He saw worn boots, heavyweight but on the small side, attached to a pair of damn shapely calves that were wrapped in suede. The person those legs belonged to crouched. It was a woman. She had a gun, a couple of knives on her belt, and a completely unperturbed expression on her face. 

“Well, hello, beautiful,” Negan said with a grin. Damn, how’d he miss this one? “This your handiwork? Nice job. Very nice. Where you been hiding?”

“No place you know,” she responded. “And I’ll be kind enough to cut you down if we keep it that way. Otherwise, I’m happy to leave you swinging. Your people will find you eventually, and I’ve got other traps to check.”

“My people?” he asked, still smiling. “I think that puts you one up on me. You know me, but I don’t know you.” He pointed from himself to her as he spoke. “And I definitely would like to know you.”

She stood and swiftly climbed the tree; Negan twisted himself around trying to watch what she was doing. Damn, she was quick. “You gonna give me a warning before you…”

“Ever do a somersault, when you were a kid?” she asked, interrupting him. “Put your hands toward the ground, palms flat and elbows and wrists loose. When you feel the rope start to give, reach for the ground and get ready to do a somersault. It won’t be graceful, but it should keep you from cracking your skull. I’m starting to cut now.”

Negan did the best he could, and he thought he did a pretty decent job of it, considering, but he still managed to slam most of his lower half on the hard ground. He let out a groan that quickly became laughter. “Goddamn,” he said. “Gymnastics was not my area of expertise.”

The sound of a gun cocking brought him quickly back to the matter at hand, and his laughter died abruptly when he saw what was in her hand, the one not holding the gun. He got to his feet slowly. “I’m gonna ask real nice, but I am only gonna ask once,” he said. “Give her to me. Right now. Please.”

“Move toward me and I will shoot you in the leg,” she said. “Give me your word that you will walk away from here without telling any of your people about me, and you get your girl back. I know enough about you to know what both things are worth.” She flipped Lucille in her gloved hand, catching the wire-wrapped end and holding the handle out to him.

He took Lucille and nodded his head. “All right.”

She nodded, but didn’t lower the gun. “Bye now.”

He started walking away, then turned back. “You know I’m gonna come back.” His grin had returned. 

“You can try.”


	2. You'll Find Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you do with a leather jacket-clad visitor bearing gifts? You keep him guessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a slow-burn that will have explicit M/F smut in later chapters.

He certainly tried.

He was a tenacious son of a bitch, she’d give him that. He showed up at least twice a week, sometimes more. She always spotted him, but made sure he couldn’t say the same. The first few times, he just hung around by the tree where she’d accidentally snared him, playing with his baseball bat and whistling. When that didn’t work, he started wandering a little further afield; she’d found his boot tracks near a couple other traps, but never anywhere close to her home trails. Finally, he started leaving things behind, with notes. A roll of gauze--Just in case you snare something that fights harder than I do. A couple bottles of water--Not much rain lately. A box of venison jerky--In case you still haven’t caught that other buck. 

She let it go on for a while, assuming he’d lose interest and get bored. But he didn’t. He always came alone. She never saw anyone else from his colony--they’d cleared the area months before, gutted all the dilapidated buildings of what little was left and considered the area empty, which was basically true. There was no reason for them to come back, which meant there was no reason for him to come back. 

But he did. Time and again. It made her curious. A little agitated too, but mostly curious. One day she spotted him there again, just sitting by the tree and whistling. He had a basket of apples this time, ripe and red and shiny. 

She liked apples. Fuck it. “What do you want?”

He looked up with a smile. “Well, hello to you too. Catch your buck yet?”

“I think he’s too smart for the snare.” She sat a few feet away from him. He had a gun on his hip and his bat on the ground next to him. She had two guns and three knives, one of which was in her hand. It was fair odds. She beckoned with her fingers for an apple; he tossed it and she caught it easily. She began peeling it with the knife. “Thanks for the apples,” she said. “What do you want?”

“A little company,” he said. “Maybe half that apple.”

“Way I hear it, you’ve got plenty of both.” She handed over a slice of apple. “And I’m not the marrying type.” 

He held up the slice. “I believe I said half.” He put it in his mouth with a smile, chewing it with his perfect teeth. It was uncanny to have teeth that perfect at the end of the world.

“You said maybe half the apple,” she reminded him. “But I still don’t believe that’s all you want.”

He shrugged. “Okay, you got me. It’s all about the company. I’d like to get to know you, maybe figure out how the hell I missed knowing you existed. You hunt. You can shoot. You can use a knife. You’re a survivor. I could use a woman like you.” He held up a hand before she could speak. “In the Sanctuary. In the field. Outside of that, well…” That grin was back. “That’d be up to you.”

She handed him more of the apple. “I don’t work well with others.”

That cocky grin didn’t budge. “Just the two of us? I can get behind that.”

She rolled her eyes but half-smiled. “I prefer to be on my own. You gonna let me stay that way?”

He had the gall to look shocked. “I gave you my word,” he said, putting his hand to his chest. “Which is more than I can say for you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said it before--you’ve got one up on me, at least one. You know who I am, where I live, that I got people. I don’t have shit on you.” He leaned back on his elbows. “I’d like to change that. But just between you and me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why?”

“Why keep it between you and me? Why not expose you, tell my people you exist, have them come on out here to try and grab you so they can impress the boss man?” He shrugged. “Guess I’m just a mercurial son of a bitch that likes to keep people on their toes. Or maybe I like having a little break from the politics and the running things and all the other shit that comes with keeping people safe and fed during the goddamn apocalypse. A little conversation with a smoking-hot ninja woman seems like a hell of a way to relax.”

“Uh huh,” she said. She didn’t sound convinced. “And all these little presents. When am I expected to start paying you back?”

“You’re not.” He pushed the basket of apples closer to her. “No obligation. You are not beholden to me or to anybody at the Sanctuary. I am the boss, this is my shit, and I can choose to give it to whoever I damn well please. You could have left me swinging. You could have taken my girl. You didn’t. That’s worth more than a few apples and some gauze.”

She considered his words, then nodded. “Okay. Come back day after tomorrow. You got any batteries in that place?”

“Yeah.”

“I could use some batteries,” she said. “Got a couple flashlights on their last legs. Bring me some batteries.” She grabbed the apples and stood up; after only a brief hesitation, she put her knife away and extended a hand to him.

He took it and pulled himself upright. “Batteries. You gonna tell me your name?”

She smiled. “Not today.” She took a bite of another apple, winked, and walked away.


	3. Even Down Looks Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Showing Negan around, at least a little (short chapter)

He brought the batteries. Things continued on for a while, a little more than two months of random meetings by the tree--“My tree,” he had taken to calling it--when more pressing matters for either of them didn’t preclude a social call. If they missed each other, messages of a sort were left, such as small supplies or random items that one of them deemed useful or interesting. She told him her name after the first week; every time he said it, he’d smile. 

She liked that. So did he. Neither one of them would ever admit it.

One night they got drunk on the dandelion wine she’d made that spring, and sang all the songs they could remember that had the name “Lucille” in them, which was exactly two. She danced with Lucille while singing Little Richard. He laughed and grabbed them both, his grip as tight on her waist as it was on the bat’s handle. He left shortly thereafter, neither of them knowing what to do when the laughter died off and a long, silent moment stretched tight between them.

She didn’t return to his tree for days. But when she did, there was a book waiting for her -- a worn paperback copy of Ray Bradbury’s Dandelion Wine. It was in a ziplock bag and the pages were held together with rubber bands. On the cover was a post-it note telling her not to lose any of the damn pages because he’d sure as shit be wanting it back. 

She showed him where she lived the next time he came. She took him on a two mile-long hike that included several wrong turns and winding, circular paths. She knew the way like the back of her hand--in truth, her place was barely a quarter mile from his tree--but she wasn’t ready for him to know the real way to her home. When they reached the mouth of the cave system, she led him along another circuitous route until they reached a large open cavern lit by a string of lights. 

“Well, goddamn, Miss Emily.” He let out a long whistle, turning slowly to take in the great expanse of cavern. “This is impressive,” he said. “With electricity, even.”

“There’s a generator in what looks like a small office,” she explained. “This was a tourist attraction before the world ended. I don’t use much power, but I need light.”

“How in hell did you find this place?” he asked. He was wandering the cavern, taking in the rock formations, the reflecting pool, all of it. 

“I tripped over it,” she said. “Literally. Almost broke my ass when I was running from a walker and tripped over a half-broken sign that said ‘caverns,’ with an arrow pointing east. I ducked in to hide, saw lights and started exploring. There are deeper caves, but I don’t trust my spelunking skills. I stick to the main rooms. It’s plenty. There are seven, including two with natural skylights. The lower ones are deep enough underground that the temperature stays constant. I scavenged furniture and made myself a little underground house, basically.”

“I can see that,” he said. “Do I get the grand tour?”

“No.” She smiled. “Not today. Maybe next time.”

He smiled back. “Is there a wine cellar?”

“Bet your ass there is.”


End file.
